Hollywood Ending
by greenschist
Summary: Draco, Hermione, and their own fairy tale. A collection of Dramione drabbles written for a movie-themed Last Drabble Writer Standing competition. Now complete.
1. Unsaid: The Princess Bride

A/N: I wrote these a few years ago for a dramione Last Drabble Writer Standing competition on LJ. For this particular competition, each weekly prompt and theme was taken from a movie.

Disclaimer: This is Rowling's sandbox. I'm just playing here.

* * *

 _Unsaid_

 _Inspiration: "The Princess Bride"_

 _Must Haves: 100 words and the phrase "As you wish."_

 _Theme: a confession of love._

* * *

Hermione was still shaking sand from the Lightning Quicksand trap out of her hair when Draco arrived at headquarters. Wordless, he held her, assuring himself with lips and hands that she was alive.

Draco cupped her face in his hands. "That's it. No more missions, no more risks. Let someone else do it. If I lost you…"

She kissed his palm.

"Now is when you should say 'As you wish, Draco, fine idea, very wise' and all that." He rested his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. "Please."

"Oh, Draco." Petal-soft lips touched his cheek. "I love you, too."


	2. The Planner: Love Actually

_The Planner_

 _Inspiration: Love Actually_

 _Must Haves: "To me, you are perfect."_

 _Theme: unrequited love_

 _Warnings for Hermione/Ron_

* * *

The notebook, the Muggle one with "Our Wedding Planner" on the front, was on her desk. Draco wanted to tear it to pieces and burn the scraps.

"Now Ron thinks I'm a killjoy for saying Kreacher can't serve drinks at the reception. As if I should ignore my opposition to unpaid elf labor." Hermione rubbed her forehead. "Why can't he understand? Why must he mock me all the time? He should say—"

"'To me, you are perfect,'" Draco interrupted.

Hermione eyes were suddenly wet with tears. "Yes," she whispered. "That would be wonderful."

"Weasley should fall on his knees before you." Draco sank to the floor beside her chair and took her hand. "He should say 'There's not one moment of the day when I'm not in awe of you. Your intelligence and compassion astonish me. Your beauty overwhelms me.'" Draco looked steadily into her eyes.

Hermione gaped at him but then laughed a little. "Ron would never say anything like that, but you, Draco," she squeezed his hand before letting go, "are a true romantic. Why aren't you dating anyone?"

He kept his gaze on hers. "The one I love fell in love with someone else. I don't know why."

When she looked away, Draco felt his hopes wither. "Hermione…"

"Drop something, Malfoy?" Ron stood in the doorway, flowers in his hands.

"Ron!" She brushed past Draco on her way to Ron's arms.

Still on the floor, he closed his eyes so he wouldn't have to watch them kiss.


	3. Contagion: Scream

_Title: Contagion_

 _Inspiration: Scream_

 _Must Haves: Set in Ministry_

 _Theme: Horror_

* * *

Draco made minute adjustments to the wireless until the newscaster's voice could be heard.

 _"...Muggle authorities have responded in kind. Despite reports in the underground Muggle media of an army of 'white-eyed zombies,' it appears the spread of the contagion through the Muggle population has been contained, and the Muggles as a whole remain ignorant of the very real danger we face. Meanwhile, Ministry officials, operating from emergency headquarters, continue to work tirelessly, searching for a solution and for a way to bring aid and supplies to those poor workers still trapped with the infected in the heavily warded and quarantined Ministry building._

 _"Coming up, we will be asking hard questions. Why did the Department of Mysteries develop this terrible virus? What went wrong? How can we help the uninfected within the Ministry without risking further spread of the contagion? And what fate awaits us all if it cannot be destroyed? This and more after a word from our sponsors."_

A cheerful jingle echoed through the lunchroom, and Draco turned off the wireless in disgust. He watched Hermione, worrying over the way she kept her head down, tracing the wood grain of the table with her nail.

"They can't just abandon us!" Myra French, from the Goblin Liaison Office, wailed. "We're starving!"

"We should go out again and search more desks for food." Reg Cattermole suggested.

"Because we were so successful last time?" Hermione face was hidden by the wild bramble of her hair. "A bag of crisps and a moldy sandwich! No, I'm not going back out there, but perhaps Percy will volunteer again. Oh, wait. He's dead." She stalked past the serving counters and into the kitchen manager's office, slamming the door shut.

French sobbed, but Cattermole merely said, "I'll go look."

Draco nodded. "I'll go with you. Let me talk to Hermione. There's no point in searching the same desks twice."

He passed the ovens, telling himself the scent of burning flesh was just his imagination, just a memory of Weasley's cremation, and no more real than the faint pounding he sometimes thought he heard against Hermione's wards.

"Hermione, love," he said, opening the door. Hermione sat curled in the chair, her face against her knees. "Reg—"

"Do you know why Percy killed himself after being bitten instead of letting us banish him?"

"Don't." He knelt, and she clung to him. "I know what you saw was horrible, but—"

"They're so hungry…they've turned on each other." Her voice was like gravel. "But the contagion poisons their flesh, and the hunger can't be satisfied. They need fresh meat." She tightened her hold. "I'm hungry, too."

"We all are." He kissed the top of her head. "Reg and I are going out to look for food. Don't be afraid, Hermione. I'll feed you."

She dragged his head down and kissed him, but a sudden pain made him yelp. He stared at her milky-white eyes and bloodstained teeth and felt his blood freeze.

"Yes," she smiled. "You will."

* * *

This scared me so bad while writing it—I hate zombies!

Thank you to everyone who has read, favorited, and reviewed.


	4. Loss: The Departed

_Loss_

 _Inspiration: The Departed_

 _Theme: grief/regret_

* * *

Hermione smoothed her dress over her belly and eased herself down next to Draco. "It's time to leave for the gravesite, love."

His head dropped to her shoulder, and he cried hot, silent tears against her throat. In his hands, he held a rose from Narcissa's garden, startlingly dark and lush in a room full of white flowers.

Blinking back her own tears, she kissed his hair. "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry for holidays and birthdays and every day you'll miss her. Most of all, I'm sorry she won't be here to love our child the way she loved you."


	5. Nothing Stops the Game: Bull Durham

_Title: Nothing Stops the Game_

 _Inspiration: Bull Durham_

 _Must Haves: Quidditch World Cup_

 _Theme: Victory_

* * *

Draco's silvery owl Patronus shot from the tip of his wand and disappeared through the wall.

"What did you tell Harry?" Hermione never looked up from her work.

"Status report," Draco replied. "That with just over an hour until detonation, we're still disarming the device, and although my legs are tired from climbing all those stairs, it was worth it for the chance to watch your arse move under those tight little trousers."

Hermione breathed out audibly through her nose. "I wish you'd stop winding up Harry and Ron."

"Give me a break, Hermione." On the other side of the bomb mounted beneath the announcer's booth, Draco's hands moved in a complicated dance, fingers of one hand tracing the circuit through the device while disarming magical tripwires with the wand in his other hand. Overhead, thousands roared as Egypt battled Bulgaria in the 424th World Cup. "I'm elbow deep inside a bomb rigged to disperse poisonous gas through a stadium filled with oblivious fans thanks to image-conscious Ministers who won't stop the game and evacuate, _and_ —even worse—you refuse to go out with me. Winding up your friends and looking down your blouse are the only bright spots in my life right now."

Hermione gave him a sour look but did not stop working long enough to adjust the neckline of her security staff tunic.

"Why _won't_ you date me?" he asked.

"Is this the appropriate time for this conversation? Really?"

"We could make the wrong move and die horribly at any moment, so humor me." Draco kept working. "I'm rich, charming, devilishly handsome—don't snort; it's the truth—I've promised you fine dining, entertainment, and long, slow kisses that last for three days. _I_ would date me. Why won't you?"

"It's complicated."

"Is it my family?" He made a face at the thought that struck him. "Or are you still in love with Weasley?"

"No! Look—"

Harry's silver stag suddenly appeared before them. _"There's been another note. The bomber now says we have three minutes. If you have something brilliant up your sleeve, Hermione, this is the time to pull it out."_

Hermione gasped in indignation. "We're supposed to have forty-seven minutes!"

"Some terrorists are so inconsiderate," Draco drawled.

"Merlin, Draco, shut up!"

"I think I can disarm it."

"You _think?_ "

"Yeah. I'm pretty sure if I cut this wire, everything stops."

To Hermione's dismay, the device began to emit a high-pitched whine. "…How sure?"

"Sure enough to risk both our lives."

She took a deep, shuddery breath. "Do it."

"Go out with me."

" _What?_ Draco, cut the wire!"

"Say you'll have dinner with me."

"We're out of time!"

"We certainly are," he agreed. She tore her eyes away from the flashing lights long enough to glare at him over the top of the device, and he had the nerve to wink at her. "You should say yes, Hermione."

"Yes!" she yelled, giving up. "Yes, all right? Yes!"

"Really?"

"Yes, now cut the damn wire, Draco!"

She flinched involuntarily as the two halves of the wire fell apart with a quiet snip of his scissors and all the blinking lights went dark. The hum of the device ceased, and she sank to her knees in relief.

"Success!" Draco crowed. There was a triumphant light in his eyes that Hermione suspected had nothing to do with diffusing a bomb and saving a stadium full of people.

* * *

 **A/N:** The "…long, slow kisses that last for three days" line is paraphrased from _Bull Durham_.


	6. Broken Homes: About a Boy

_Title: Broken Homes, Mended Destinies_

 _Inspiration: About a Boy_

 _Must Haves: epilogue compliant & 350 words_

 _Theme: Dramione from Hugo's POV_

 _Warning for adultery_

* * *

I hate Draco Malfoy. This is his fault. Well, his and Mum's, but mostly his.

Mum says she and Dad love us and that we're still a family. The only change is she and Dad won't live together anymore, and Rose and I will divide our holidays between the house we all used to share and _Malfoy bloody Manor_. Pretty big change, if you ask me.

Dad's right to call Mr. Malfoy a tosser and worse, but he missed the most obvious thing: Draco Malfoy is a thief. He's been stealing Mum away since the day Rose left for Hogwarts.

It was so stupid and weird, the way they stared at each other as the train left, ignoring Dad and Scorpius's mum. Malfoy looked at Mum like she was a new broom or a Honeydukes' sweet, and Mum just smiled and blushed. I didn't understand why, but I wanted to go home then. But it's like Malfoy came home with us, somehow, because he was always present after that.

He was there in the way Mum started working late and the way she and Dad couldn't speak to each other without yelling. He was there as Rose showed Mum photographs of the end-of-term dance, where Scorpius had worn dark blue robes and too much of his dad's sandalwood cologne, and Mum got all teary and said he was "as handsome as his father." Last summer, when Uncle Harry mentioned that Scorpius would be spending a few weeks with Albus while his mother packed up and moved out of the Manor, Draco Malfoy was there in the way Mum locked herself in the bath and cried. When Mum and Dad came to Hogwarts mid-term to talk to us, I already knew they were splitting up; I could smell sandalwood in Mum's hair and on her clothes. It was like Malfoy was there, sitting in the space that had formed between my parents.

I refuse to visit them, and I already signed up to stay at school over Christmas. Draco Malfoy ruined our family. I hate him, and Mum too…but mostly him.


	7. Free: One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest

_Free to Love_

 _Inspiration: One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest_

 _Must Haves: Set in St. Mungo's_

 _Theme: Insanity_

* * *

Healer Grieves beamed at his guest.

"As you can see, here at St. Mungo's we are successfully retraining afflicted wizards and witches for proper roles in society."

Madame Échapper, an imperious woman from Paris's wizard hospital with sleek, tightly-bound brown hair, horned-rimmed glasses, and a small mole by her mouth, remained impassive. "I nevair would 'ave chosen ze word 'afflicted' for people in love."

Grieves frowned. "It fits when the so-called love is unnatural. These patients are here because of self-destructive affection for Mudbloods. We cure them."

" _Oui_ , of course you are correct." The woman moved slowly up the hall, peering into every room through tiny windows in the doors. She stopped outside room 418. "'Oo is zis?"

The Healer joined her at the window. Within, a blond man slept curled in the fetal position.

"Draco Malfoy…a disappointing case, I admit. He became involved with a particularly notorious Mudblood—Hermione Granger, close friend of Undesirable Number One—and turned traitor. Such a shame. His family used to be so well connected."

Her hand curled into a fist against the door. "Ze patient is not responding to ze program?"

"Not as well as we'd like. He still loves her. He even insists they're married." The Healer's lip curled in disgust. "Such a union is not recognized, of course; we now have laws against miscegenation. Nevertheless, he remains devoted."

The woman bowed her head, eyes shut, and Grieves laughed.

"I know." Grieves patted her shoulder in comfort. "It would be romantic if it weren't so perverse." He shook his head. "Luckily, we've made our first breakthrough in his treatment."

She opened her eyes. "Breakthrough?"

"A Sleeping Draught to prevent dreams. Apparently, he often dreams of his Mudblood." Grieves examined Malfoy through the glass again, evidently pleased by what he saw. "When we told him this would no longer be tolerated, he cried."

Something like grief crossed her face.

"Feel no pity, Madame. It's a sign we're reaching him."

She abruptly opened the door with her wand and entered.

"Madame!" Grieves darted after her, but was rendered unconscious with one swish and flick. She locked the door and darkened the window.

Moving swiftly, she poured a restorative potion down Draco's throat. "Wake up, love."

He stirred. His eyes were hazy and tracked all over the room before focusing on the woman by his bedside. Brown hair, ruthlessly tamed. Unfamiliar glasses. A smile he knew like his own heartbeat. "Hermione?" Groggy, he touched the mole by her mouth.

"Yes. I'm in disguise." She helped him sit up. "We have to hurry; the extraction team leaves in six minutes."

Dreamlike, Draco traced her lips with his fingertip. "I tried to hold on, but they took you from me."

Swallowing a sob, she kissed him, relishing the feel of his mouth after months apart. "Well, I've come for you, and we're getting out of here. No one will ever part us again."

Hermione tugged hairs from Draco's scalp, and from healers, and dropped them into tiny vials of Polyjuice Potion from her pocket. Pressing one into his hand, she forced the other between the Healer's jaws.

Slightly more alert, Draco looked from the vial in his palm to the floor where Grieves was turning into his twin. "You're real, aren't you? This isn't a dream?"

Hermione cupped his face with gentle hands. "I'm real, and I love you."


	8. Our History: The Sure Thing

_Our History_

 _Inspiration: The Sure Thing_

 _Must Haves: The Knight Bus_

* * *

Parchment and quill ready, Hermione climbed into the Knight Bus and beamed at its purple-clad conductor.

"Good evening, Mr. Shunpike. We're back." She moved aside long enough to allow Draco to reach past and drop twenty-two Sickles into the box, thus—as Draco thought of it—paying for the privilege of harassing Stan Shunpike for a few hours.

"As I'm sure you remember, Mr. Malfoy and I are volunteering on behalf of the Bathilda Bagshot Memorial Oral History Project, and we're here to give you the chance to tell the story of your wartime experiences in your own words." Hermione adopted her most encouraging tone, the one practiced to perfection on Harry and Ron. "I know you weren't in the mood to speak with us the last three times we were here, but I'm sure we'll have a nice talk tonight. What do you think?"

Shunpike glared, retreated up by the driver, barked, "No distractin' of the driver an' conductor!" and yanked shut the purple curtain he had put up after Draco and Hermione's first visit, blocking their view.

"Well, this promises to be another wasted evening." Draco commandeered the bed closest to the curtain and held on to the brass rail when the bus leaped forward. He caught Hermione as she fell toward the back of the bus and dropped her beside him on the bed. "You clearly terrify the man, Granger. Do all men hide when you start talking, or is it just your approach here?"

"My approach is fine, thank you. If Mr. Shunpike is terrified, it's because of the way the Ministry and Voldemort tormented him. You know," she said, glaring, "you've been remarkably unhelpful during these interviews, Malfoy. If you think it's easy forging a personal connection with Mr. Shunpike and persuading him to talk, let's see you try it."

"Fine." Draco straightened his spine and yelled, "Shunpike! As a former Death Eater, I order you to come out here and spill your guts!"

The bus swerved wildly, dumping one small bearded wizard out of his bed and rolling him under his neighbor.

"What is _wrong_ with you?" Hermione leaped from the bed and stuck her head through the curtain. "Mr. Shunpike, I apologize. He didn't mean—"

"Back behin' the yellow line!" Shunpike shoved Hermione so far back far that she landed next to Draco again.

"Look," Draco pointed as he helped her sit up. A squiggly line had been painted on the floor behind the driver. "I guess he painted that after our last visit."

Hermione exhaled audibly. "Malfoy, we're here for one reason."

"Court-ordered community service?" he suggested.

"No, a commitment to preserving our history!"

"Or perhaps because I read the Op-Ed piece you wrote on volunteering for the history project and seized the opportunity to spend time with you?"

The bus weaved around them, but Hermione barely felt it, not even when her quill and parchment slid across the bed. She stared at Draco's profile. "Why would you do that?"

"Easy." Draco grabbed her quill as it rolled and gave it back to her, letting his fingers brush hers, "I'm ready to move past our history."


	9. Fetish: The Wizard of Oz

_Fetish_

 _Inspiration: The Wizard of Oz_

 _Must Haves: ruby slippers, under 200 words_

* * *

The moment they came home, Hermione was reaching for the straps on her shoes.

"Wait." Draco swept her off her feet and started up the staircase. "I like these shoes." He cast admiring eyes at her footwear: high-heeled and as ruby-red as her dress robes.

"They're killing me." She sighed and rested her head against his shoulder.

"But they make your legs as long as racing brooms. You were the most gorgeous woman in that ballroom tonight." He smiled at her blush. "Ask anyone. I bet Weasley would agree with me."

"Where did Ron go anyway? I saw you talking while I was dancing with Lucius, but he vanished after that." She caught his eye as they entered their bedroom. "Oh, please tell me you didn't fight."

"No fighting." He dropped her across their bed and pulled her feet to his shoulders. "I merely pointed out how sexy you are and wondered aloud how to persuade you to wear these shoes to bed tonight." His mouth traced the ruby strap over her ankle, and he grinned when she whimpered. "I _really_ like these shoes."


	10. Rain, Rain, Go Away: Pride and Prejudice

A/N: Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed so far. I appreciate it so much!

* * *

 _Rain, Rain, Go Away_

 _Inspiration: Pride and Prejudice (BBC)_

 _Must Haves: Draco in a wet shirt_

* * *

Hermione noticed the loud swearing coming from Draco's office at the same moment she noticed water trickling out from under the door.

"Malfoy? It's Hermione Granger." She knocked three times in rapid succession over the tarnished nameplate reading _Supply and Acquisition, D. Malfoy, Junior Assistant_.

The sudden silence was broken only by a faint squelch as she shifted her feet. She knocked again.

"Go away." His voice was muffled by the sound of water.

"But I wanted to speak with you. Can't I come in?" Ignoring his protests, she opened the door, releasing a small flood into the corridor. "What's happen—" She broke off and covered her mouth, trying not to laugh.

Draco stood in the only open bit of floor space available in his shabby office, his mouth flattened into a thin line. Inches over his head, a small cloud hovered, dumping torrents of rain. It flattened his hair to his head and dripped steadily from his nose, chin, even his earlobes. His shirt clung, transparent, to his body like a second skin. With some effort, Hermione dragged her eyes away from the tiny nipples visible through the material and followed his soaked trousers down to the floor where interdepartmental memos, too sodden to fly, flapped against his feet.

"Oh, Malfoy," she sighed. "Who's angry with you?"

"This time? Maintenance." He licked rain from his lips. "Someone's stealing supplies, so I changed the locks on all their cupboards."

Hermione tried to get rid of the cloud with an Atmospheric Charm. If anything, it rained harder. "Go to the department head."

"I already did." Draco's eyes were shuttered and blank. "He said he wasn't going to listen to a Death Eater accuse his people of thieving." His hands clenched into fists. "Because that's all I'll ever be, of course. Never mind the fact that I sit faithfully this shoebox of an office buried under the Ministry, counting quills and paper clips all day long. Or that the closest I've come to battle since I was seventeen is my current struggle with the Great Toilet Roll Bandit of Maintenance."

Hermione leaned against the door frame. "People have long memories."

"Long on memory, short on forgiveness," he muttered.

"I'm sorry."

"Are you?" He shook his head skeptically. "I assume you're here to respond to my ill-conceived invitation to dinner. Well, go ahead." He held his arms out wide, as if defenseless. Rain dripped from his elbows. "Turn me down. Put the final cap on this horrible day, so that I and my little friend here," he pointed up at the cloud, "can go home and crawl into bed with an umbrella and a bottle of whiskey."

She looked at her watch. "It's only nine a.m., Draco."

"Like I care. Get on with it."

"I'd love to go out with you."

He gaped at her. "You would?"

"Pick me up at seven." She glanced at the seemingly bottomless cloud over his head and smiled. "If I have to, I'll wear my raincoat."


	11. Chrysalis: Saving Private Ryan

_Chrysalis_

 _Inspiration: Saving Private Ryan_

 _Must Haves: Wartime setting_

 _Theme: Courage_

* * *

Granger's magic pulls Draco from the tunnel before any traps can eviscerate him.

"Where does this lead, Malfoy?" She peers into the black passage.

He fights the Body-Bind enough to say, "Hollow oak. Forbidden Forest."

Her lip curls in disgust and she releases him, letting him drop to the floor. "Running away?"

He could tell her the truth. Wherever the Dark Lord waits during this last hour before the battle resumes, Lucius and Narcissa wait with him, and if Draco dies today, he wants to die with them. He could tell her he knows he's on the wrong side of this war, that he's trapped and scared, but their exchange is overlaid by the memory of how she writhed under his aunt's wand. Her screams echoed off the walls of his home and in his ears, and Draco figures he has lost the privilege of confiding in her, if he ever had it.

Instead he says, "We can't all be heroes. Someone has to be the villain of the piece."

Her contempt deepens, and she does something complex and wordless with her wand to seal the tunnel—something Draco's certain he couldn't break even if his mother's wand hadn't been destroyed.

She hesitates, and he sees a familiar expression cross her face. It's the expression he saw as Bellatrix raised her wand for another Cruciatus: fear, exhaustion, and the brittle edge of despair.

"Have you seen Harry?"

"Not since before." He doesn't have to say it was before the Dark Lord's ultimatum. In war, everything is before or after one horror or another. It dawns on him why she's asking. "Potter isn't going to give himself up. He's not that stupid."

Her anxiety morphs into anger in an instant. "You think it's stupid to be brave enough to sacrifice yourself for others, no matter what the cost?" Her voice rises. "What do you know? You've never done a brave thing in your life!"

 _I tried,_ he wants to say, but he's embarrassed by his sorry attempt to help her and her friends at the Manor. He wants to tell her he's not the same boy he used to be. The Dark Lord is mad and evil. Pureblood pride is an empty lie. Granger is incredible, fearsome, more powerful than Draco will ever be, and it's all right for her to be so. The chrysalis of accepting these thoughts takes all the courage he possesses. She's right. He's never been brave.

He slumps against the wall. "Don't worry. Potter always wins. Typical Gryffindor."

She lifts her chin at that, and Draco knows she will fight to the end, even if Potter is never seen again. Typical Gryffindor, indeed. He doesn't know what impulse leads him to take her hand or why she lets him.

"Good luck, Granger. Stay safe." He squeezes her hand, wishing he had a fraction of her strength.

She looks down at their clasped hands for a moment before she says, "Same to you, Malfoy."

And squeezes back.


	12. Blessings: It's a Wonderful Life

_Best Way to Count Your Blessings in 15 Minutes or Less_

 _Inspiration: It's a Wonderful Life_

 _Must Haves: First-Person POV_

 _Theme: Gratitude_

* * *

I'm the luckiest man alive. No, seriously.

After all, I'm married to Hermione, and our brilliant—and slightly scary—children are quietly playing _outside_.

See? I'm lucky.

I corner Hermione in the kitchen, trying to unclog the sink, from the looks of things. She's luscious, perched on her knees on the counter next to the sink, wearing those shorts, the shorts that used to be jeans until she took a severing charm to them.

It's good to be me.

She forces the plunger up and down and every inch of her jiggles.

"Draco," she gasps, her curvy little butt bouncing on her heels, "is it draining?"

There's a bone-dry bucket below the sink. "Why not use a charm?"

She keeps bouncing and I keep enjoying it. "This clog is beyond magic."

I nod, knowing better than to suggest one of her household charms failed. Instead, I put one hand over hers on the plunger. "The kids are _outside,_ " I say meaningfully when she stares at me. I give her my best sultry expression.

"You want to…now?" She's disbelieving, as if she doesn't know what those shorts do to me.

"We have a good fifteen minutes until someone breaks a bone or sets something on fire."

"That's optimistic." She tries to tug the plunger away from me. "We don't have time."

"Nonsense. If we skip foreplay, I can be done in seven minutes."

She laughs. " _That's_ an enticement." And I seize the chance kiss her open mouth and swallow her laughter down.


	13. Say Anything

A/N: And so we come to the end of this collection. I had so much fun writing it, and I hope you've enjoyed reading it. Thank you for every review, favorite, and follow. They mean so much. I'll be posting a new Dramione drabble collection soon, as well as a mystery one-shot. :D

* * *

 _Say Anything_

 _Inspiration: Writer's Choice (Say Anything)_

 _Must Haves: Must contain a quote from the movie and use the title_

* * *

"It's a good thing we didn't open these gifts before we left for the honeymoon." Hermione climbed up off the floor and onto the couch next to Draco. "I just don't know what to say."

"Well, I do." Draco wadded a handful of gilt wrapping paper into a ball and threw it at the photograph of Hermione, Harry, and Ron on the mantle. The paper bounced harmlessly off the heavy frame. "Your friends are utter—"

Hermione covered his mouth with her hand. "Don't say it, please." She left her hand in place until she felt Draco relax and kiss her palm. Crossing one leg over his body, Hermione shifted until she straddled his lap. Cupping his jaw and kissing him in return, she sighed as his hands slid underneath the faded "Slytherins Do It with Ambition" t-shirt she had appropriated from his closet not long after they started dating. "I'm sure Harry and Ron mean well," she whispered against his lips.

She was pushed off his lap before she could blink.

"They _mean well?_ " Draco began rummaging through the opened presents next to the couch. "What's so well-meaning about this book Weasley gave you?" He held up a copy of _When Good Witches Love Bad Wizards_ by Healer Hester Grim. On the cover, a sorrowful witch burst into tears over and over.

"He also gave me a very useful book on household spells and a study of the oral history traditions among house elves." She gestured weakly toward the book in her husband's hands. "That author is receiving a lot of publicity right now, on the WWW and everything. Perhaps Ron just heard of her and thought I would be interested. Draco? What's wrong?" Draco had opened the book and looked absolutely furious.

"He bought you a ticket to her "Get Over That Bad Boy and Get on With Life" seminar." He held up the ticket but kept his eyes on the book. "Weasley also wrote a touching inscription here." He cleared his throat and Hermione felt her heart sink. "Hermione, I'm here if you need me. _Love_ you, Ron.'" He closed the book with a snap and stared at her expectantly.

Hermione plucked the ticket from his hand and tore it in half. "Ron is very protective, that's all. It's his nature."

"Much like Potter, who gave you that portable fellytone."

Hermione squirmed uncomfortably. "It's a mobile telephone, and it's a nice gift."

"Not if he gives it to you with the idea that you'll need a way to call for help if my evil family prevents you from contacting him with magic." Draco found the mobile under a box and tossed it onto the sofa next to Hermione.

"Your family's not evil. Not completely." He gave her his darkest look and she smiled. "Come on, Draco. You're being quite hard on my friends. I could say a thing or two about your parents, but I'm not."

"My parents gave us this wonderful house for an engagement present!"

"Yes, and they covered it with Muggle-repelling charms! _My_ parents drove around for hours trying to find us. Whenever my father came close, he'd make a wrong turn." She took his hand. "You know Lucius and Narcissa would be happiest if you and my parents were never in the same room. We both knew it would be difficult for our friends and families to accept our marriage."

Draco sputtered before blurting, "Nobody thinks it will work, do they?"

"No." She brought his hand to her lips and kissed his wedding ring. "You just described every great success story."

* * *

A/N2: Draco and Hermione's last lines are taken from "Say Anything," which is the property of Twentieth Century Fox.


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